


Hearts and Aces

by seekingsquake



Series: we were young and wild and free [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Asexual Otabek Altin, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 07:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10184573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingsquake/pseuds/seekingsquake
Summary: “Yura,” Otabek says, and he’s surprised at the way it comes out. Sharper than he meant it to sound, and a little louder. He turns in the cradle of Yuri’s arms and tilts Yuri’s face up so they can look each other in the eyes. “It’s not just you. It’s because it’s you. Understand? I’ve never wanted to be like this with anyone else, so. I feel like...”Yuri is very observant, always has been, and very smart. He knows Otabek better than almost anyone. He says, “I’m safe for you, okay?”“Yes,” Otabek murmurs, and he leans his cheek against the top of Yuri’s head. “That’s how I feel. Safe. With you. So.”“So.” Yuri sort of laughs, and then he kisses Otabek softly, and then he says, “Finish your breakfast. And eat my toast. I don’t want it anymore.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [As kier](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10568838) by [Indileen (indileen)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indileen/pseuds/Indileen)



> Otabek is so in love with Yuri; it made it difficult to write coherently.

“I’m nineteen now,” Yuri says out of nowhere over half a sandwich and a bag of potato chips. There are crumbs around the corners of his mouth, and his bangs are in his eyes even though his hair is pulled back into a messy sort of half bun. The patio door is open, and the curtains are drawn back. There’s a breeze to fight off the August heat, and multiple fans going throughout the apartment, but there’s still a little bit of sweat glistening across the bridge of Yuri’s nose.

“Yes,” Otabek responds before taking a long gulp of water from his glass. “You’ve been nineteen for four months now.”

Yuri nods sharply, then takes a deep breath. He rushes his words when he asks, “Three and a half years isn’t so much of a difference when the youngest person is nineteen, is it?”

The curtains flutter and Yuri’s hair shines golden in the sunlight. He’s been spending his offseasons in Almaty for the past three years, and it doesn’t feel like summer to Otabek if Yuri isn’t hanging around. He wipes his fingers on a paper napkin before crunching down on a chip. “I guess it’s not.”

“So it wouldn’t be weird if, like, we wanted to date, yeah?”

Otabek continues to pick at his lunch. His hands don’t falter, his breath doesn’t catch, and he keeps his eyes on his plate. It’s not that he hasn’t previously thought about dating Yuri, but he never really thought too hard about it, either. There was just so much that made it feel too big and too complicated even to bridge. But he’s not the one bridging the gap. Yuri brought it up all on his own. “Do we want to date?” Otabek asks instead of anything else, instead of putting words to the thoughts  _ how long have you thought about it how long have you wanted me I love you. _

“I do,” Yuri mutters, making eye contact with Otabek for the first time in a good ten minutes. “But it’s cool if you don’t want to.” His voice is steady, but his eyelashes flutter a little. Yuri’s standing out on a ledge here, and all Otabek wants to do is pull him back from the edge.

“I want to, too.”

Yuri’s eyes light up, and he takes a big bite of his sandwich, and around his mouthful he mumbles, “Good, ‘cause I like you so fucking much.”

Otabek can’t help but smile.

  
  


Otabek doesn’t drink much, but he does DJ for clubs sometimes, and Yuri still isn’t old enough to go. Part of him wants to cancel; to just stay home and spend the night listening to music and braiding Yuri’s hair while Yuri scrolls through Instagram or Twitter. But the more responsible part of him knows that he can’t let down the people who hired him for no other reason than  _ I don’t want to do anything at all if my boyfriend can’t come with me. _

“If you get hungry there’s stuff in the fridge. I’ll probably stop by McDonald's on my way home; I’ll text you before I leave in case you want anything.”

“Okay,” Yuri murmurs, never taking his eyes off the TV. He’s playing a video game that Otabek doesn’t recognize as one of his own, and he’s scowling a little. One of the characters is getting the shit kicked out of him, and the other is attacking relentlessly, and Otabek doesn’t know which one Yuri is. 

He grabs his helmet off the table and slings his bag over his shoulder before heading for the door. Yuri makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, and Otabek stops in his tracks before turning back around. “What is it?”

“Aren’t you going to kiss me goodbye or something?” Yuri asks, a little too irritated to be petulant. 

It feels like the whole world just stops for a moment, and Otabek is suddenly very conscious of his heart in his chest and the breath in his lungs and the weight of his tongue in his mouth. It feels like he’s moving in slow motion as he crosses back into the room and bends over low. His hand slides into Yuri’s hair and tips Yuri’s head back, and he doesn’t let himself hesitate as he brushes a kiss over Yuri’s mouth. Then the world has picked up speed, is moving faster than Otabek thinks it usually does, and he’s on his bike and all the way downtown before he even fully comprehends how or why or what just happened. 

Yuri had been wearing some lip balm, and now Otabek’s lips feel a little waxy with residue. Yuri had tasted salty, and maybe Otabek remembers a sleeve of crackers on the floor by Yuri’s knee, or maybe his brain is just trying to explain it. It hadn’t occurred to him to kiss Yuri before leaving, but he’s glad Yuri said something, and he’s glad they kissed, and he wants to kiss again. 

He’s loved Yuri for so long, but that feeling was always so far removed from anything physical at all that touching Yuri even in his thoughts isn’t natural. They help each other stretch during workouts, and Yuri wraps his arms around Otabek’s waist when they drive around on the bike, and once Otabek had carried Yuri up the stairs of his apartment building after he’d twisted his ankle. In Otabek’s fantasies, he’s brushing Yuri’s hair. Kissing never actually crossed his mind before, but now. Now he feels like he might start thinking about it a lot. 

Otabek hopes that Yuri will still be awake when he gets back from the club, because he wants to kiss Yuri again, and he wants to feel present for it. He decides he won’t linger too long after the club closes like he sometimes does. He’ll just grab some food and go straight home. 

He’s only dated Yuri for approximately six hours, but it already feels different.

  
  


“Something happened,” Serik shouts as he drapes himself over Otabek’s shoulders. “Your mixes are lighter tonight than usual. Tell me!”

Serik has been Otabek’s friend for a long time, and he’s been privy to nearly every inner thought Otabek has ever had. Except that Otabek has always been very self-contained in regards to Yuri, and so now it's his silence that gives him away.

“Did something happen with Yuuuuuuraaaa?” Serik asks, sloshing his drink over Otabek’s arm, and whooping when Otabek continues to do nothing except maneuver him farther away from the sound equipment. “Shit! It did! Something did! Wait, no, don’t tell me anything until Sezim is here! I’m going to get you a drink, okay? In celebration. Yay! You got your man!”                                                                                                     

Serik never makes it back to the DJ booth, but the hours fly by anyway. Otabek finds an unpressured, untainted, effortless sort of joy in music that he could never get from skating, and watching people in the club feel what he’s feeling and dance to the happy thumping of his heart makes him feel like he’s flying. His shift ends at two am, and he’s packing up his things when Serik reappears from wherever it was that he went. Together the two of them take a seat at the bar and wait for Sezim to finish wiping the counters and counting her cash-out.

“So?” Serik prods as he dips his fingers into a glass of water and flicks the liquid at Otabek. “When did it happen?”

“What happened?” Sezim asks as she scans the bar stock, double checking to make sure everything’s where it should be and that there are no empty bottles left on the shelves.

“Something with Yura, babe, isn’t that exciting?”

“Yuri and I are dating now,” Otabek offers, and Serik whoops before slamming back the glass of water as if it was alcohol. Sezim just makes a quiet sort of humming noise and looks at Otabek very seriously for a long moment before finishing the rest of her tasks and grabbing her bag. She shuts off all the lights, sets the alarm, and then locks the door behind them. 

Serik runs off down the street to grab his car, and Otabek and Sezim stand together under the club’s awning. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asks him softly, her eyes searching.

“No,” Otabek admits, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. “But I want to be.”

“It’ll be difficult to date once he goes back to Russia.”

“Yes.”

“Being in a relationship is a lot of work, and takes patience and communication.”

“Yes, I know.”

“It isn’t easy, and just because you are in love with him doesn’t mean that--,”

“I can’t imagine,” Otabek interrupts gently, his hand on Sezim’s elbow, “that dating Yuri will be any more challenging for me than dating Serik is for you. It’s worth everything that comes with it, right?”

Sezim sighs, and then leans into Otabek’s chest. “It is. But I worry about you. Your Yuri is quite strong in regards to his personality. I don’t want you to be swept away just because you’re more relaxed in nature.”

“I’ll be careful,” Otabek insists. Then he adds, “Yuri would never hurt me.”

“Not on purpose,” Sezim agrees softly, “but sometimes it’s the accidents that are more hurtful.” A beat of silence passes before she asks, “Have you told him about you?”

“It’s never come up,” Otabek murmurs.

“It will. You shouldn’t wait too long. Yuri will want to do things like that soon, probably, so. You shouldn’t leave it.”

“Okay.”

Serik pulls up in the car before Sezim can say anything else, and he rolls down the window and shouts, “Love of my life, let me take you home before the sun comes up!”

Otabek watches them drive away before he gets on his bike and heads back to his apartment. His stomach feels tense, and so he doesn’t bother stopping for food like he had told Yuri he would. 

  
  


Yuri is sleeping on the couch when Otabek gets in. The TV is still on, but it looks like there’s a movie playing now. Things are exploding on screen, and the volume is up, so Otabek is surprised that the noise doesn’t wake Yuri. He’s hugging one of the decorative throw pillows to his chest, and his pajama pants are riding low on his hips. Otabek toes off his shoes and leaves his helmet on the kitchen table then moves to the couch and presses a kiss to Yuri’s forehead. 

Yuri snuffles a little before his eyes blink open. “Beka?” His voice is raspy with sleep, and Otabek feels so fond it almost aches in his chest. “What time is it?”

“Twenty after three.”

“God. Why?”

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“‘Sokay,” Yuri murmurs as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. He hooks his fingers into the collar of Otabek’s shirt and tugs him down for a kiss on the lips, and Otabek feels all the oxygen in his body evaporating. His heart is pounding so hard he thinks that if Yuri put his hand over his chest, he’d feel it. “Let’s go to bed now.”

Otabek licks his lips. “Like. Together?”

“Oh,” Yuri says, his eyes suddenly wide. “Um. If you want to? Just sleeping, yeah?”

Ever since the first time they met all those years ago in Yakov’s training camp, Yuri has been pushing Otabek’s limits. The idea of sharing a bed with Yuri is mildly anxiety-inducing, but  _ just sleeping _ sounds completely doable. Otabek figures that a little bout of nerves never killed anyone, so. “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay,” Yuri replies, and he smiles.

  
  


They’re eating breakfast a little later than Otabek usually likes, but he forgives himself since he got in late and it took him over an hour to fall asleep after he and Yuri went to bed together. Yuri’s sitting at the table eating an orange and has prepared himself a hardboiled egg and piece of toast, while Otabek is standing near the counter and slowly working through a bowl of yogurt and granola. It’s already too hot to do much more than lay on the floor and melt, so Otabek figures they’ll probably do just that while playing video games or watching movies. 

Apparently, Yuri has other ideas. “When was your first kiss?”

Otabek almost chokes on his spoon. “Sorry?”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “When was your first kiss? I was just thinking last night that in the whole time I’ve known you, we’ve never talked about your, like, romantic life or whatever.”

“We’ve never talked about yours, either,” Otabek points out, eyes carefully watching Yuri’s hands.

“Because I’ve never had one before,” Yuri chides as he jams a piece of orange into his mouth. “You know that. And I told you about that time a crazy fan stole my first kiss! So tell me about yours.”

Otabek has very rarely been embarrassed around Yuri; embarrassment isn’t an emotion that he feels very often just in general, but this moment is leaving little room for Otabek to feel anything else. He can’t make himself say the words  _ it was yesterday, _ and he can’t bring himself to look at Yuri, so he turns towards the kitchen sink and says, “My first kiss was with you.”

There is absolute silence behind him. It stretches out for agonizingly long seconds, and then Yuri just says, “What?” and he sounds so... 

“It was you,” Otabek says again, and he’s sure his voice didn’t waver, but he’s also very sure that he's actively disappearing into the ether. He flinches when Yuri’s chair scrapes across the floor, and Yuri’s arms are wrapped around his waist before he can even think of moving.

Yuri presses his face hard into the space between Otabek’s shoulderblades. “You should have told me.” Otabek's t-shirt muffles his voice. “I wouldn’t have been so flippant yesterday if I’d known--”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I... if I didn’t want to. I liked that it was casual. No pressure. Right?”

He feels Yuri sigh against him more than he hears it. “No pressure, obviously. It’s just me.”

“Yura,” Otabek says, and he’s surprised at the way it comes out. Sharper than he meant it to sound, and a little louder. He turns in the cradle of Yuri’s arms and tilts Yuri’s face up so they can look each other in the eyes. “It’s not just you. It’s because it’s you. Understand? I’ve never wanted to be like this with anyone else, so. I feel like...”

Yuri is very observant, always has been, and very smart. He knows Otabek better than almost anyone. He says, “I’m safe for you, okay?”

“Yes,” Otabek murmurs, and he leans his cheek against the top of Yuri’s head. “That’s how I feel. Safe. With you. So.”

“So.” Yuri sort of laughs, and then he kisses Otabek softly, and then he says, “Finish your breakfast. And eat my toast. I don’t want it anymore.”

  
  


“You don’t think it’s weird that I’ve waited such a long time to kiss anyone?” Otabek asks.    They’re watching a movie on the TV, and it’s dark outside, and Otabek isn’t paying that much attention. Yuri also looks more interested in his toes than in whatever is happening on the screen.

Yuri snorts. “Are you kidding? You still beat Katsudon by, like, a year. And anyway, it’s not like your first kiss was with  _ Victor. _ ” He shudders, and Otabek can feel it where their bodies touch. “At least you waited to kiss someone cool.”

Otabek laughs. 

  
  


S: have you told him yet?

O: no

S: beka

O: I know. I'll get there. I'm just.

S: he won’t care. And if he does he’s a jerk

O: he won’t care. I already know that. But I've never said it out loud to anyone before.

S: you can’t wait until he leaves. He’s your bf, and this is important. If you text it to him, I’ll yell at you

O: you’re already yelling at me.

S: I'm serious! Don't text him. I'll know!

O: you’re odd.

S: don’t change the subject

O: goodbye.

S: beka we’re not done with this convo

S: beka no

S: beka

S: otabek

S: omg

 

“Who are you texting?”

“Nobody,” Otabek says as he practically shoves his phone across the floor.

Yuri watches the screen light up and go dark and light up again with texts before saying, “Really?”

“Really. Give me a hair tie.”

Yuri slips an elastic off his wrist and passes it over his shoulder, and Otabek takes it and secures it around the end of Yuri’s braid. “I can already tell that it’s crooked.”

Otabek only pauses for a moment before confirming, “It is crooked.”

“You fucked it up.”

“Yes.”

“Because you were doing it mostly one handed.” Yuri’s voice is almost stoic, but Otabek can tell he’s not that annoyed. 

“Yes, Yura.”

“Because you were texting someone.”

Otabek presses his lips together, and then digs his thumb into the base of Yuri’s skull, right where he often gets headaches. “It was just Sezim. It wasn’t important. I can redo your braid.”

Yuri catches Otabek’s hands and leans back against his chest, forcing Otabek to hug him. “It’s fine. We’re not going anywhere. How’s Sezim?”

“She’s good,” Otabek whispers into Yuri’s hair.

“That’s good.”

They should get up from the floor at some point. They should probably leave the apartment at some point too, and now that the sun’s been down for a few hours it would probably be cool enough to go for a walk around the neighborhood without sweating into their shoes, but. That would mean getting up and letting go of Yuri. And Otabek doesn’t feel like doing either of those things. What he does instead is lean back against the couch, and press Yuri against him, and say, “Should we order pizza tonight?”

“Are you feeling lazy or something?” Yuri asks, twisting around to look at him curiously.

“Yes,” Otabek says seriously. “I’m allowed to feel lazy sometimes.”

Yuri kisses him before murmuring, “Of course. It’s just not like you. But pizza sounds good.”

“Good.” Otabek kisses him again, and then Yuri kisses him, and then they just trade kisses back and forth until somebody’s stomach growls.

  
  


Otabek thinks maybe it’ll be an easier conversation to have if he can’t see Yuri, so he waits until they’ve crawled into bed and turned off all the lights before he brings it up. And even then, he doesn’t get right to it. “Yura,” he mumbles, his face pressed into Yuri’s shoulder, and his arm slung around Yuri’s waist. “Yura I have to tell you something okay?”

“Okay?”

“Okay. So. I like this, right now. Like. The cuddling. Okay? And I like kissing you.”

“...Okay...”

“But. Um.” Otabek takes a deep, steady breath, and then lets it out slowly. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to want anything more than this. And even if I do end up, like, wanting it, I'm not sure if I’ll. If I like it, you know? And I don’t want you to feel like. Um. Like it’s--”

“Beka?”

The interruption is jarring, and Otabek might be shaking a little, but he can’t tell. “Yeah?”

“Are you telling me that you’re not interested in sex?”

Apparently, that was a lot easier than Otabek had thought it would be. Yuri doesn’t even sound disappointed, only curious and maybe a little confused. He still feels a little sick with nerves, though, so when he responds it’s nothing more than a nod. “I mean. I jerk off sometimes, but. I’ve never really wanted to, you know. Do it. With someone else.”

Yuri’s quiet, and then he twines his fingers with Otabek’s and squeezes. “Does it gross you out?”

“Not really. Sex is pretty normal for people, and not wanting it or not knowing if you want it is maybe a little... unusual, and I just didn’t want to date you under false--”

“Hey.” Yuri’s voice is sharp in the darkness, feels heavier now than it ever has before. His body is tense underneath Otabek’s, and Otabek’s chest feels tight. He hasn’t felt scared like this in a long time, and he keeps telling himself that  _ this is Yuri, Yuri has always accepted me as I am _ but. Yuri can be difficult to read sometimes. “I don’t care if we date for a million years and we never have sex. I don’t care if you decide you want to have sex and we get part way through, and you realize it grosses you out, and you never want to do it ever again. I don’t care if we try it and you love it, and you want it all the time, or if we never try it. I didn’t suggest that we start dating because of sex. You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I like being around you, and I want to do stupid couple-y shit with you, and I want you to play with my hair, okay?”

Otabek can’t even say anything. His heart has exploded in his chest, and his brain is leaking out of his eyes. He knows this because there is dampness on his face that wasn’t there before. So all he gives in response is a nod, and he presses his face deeper into Yuri’s shoulder, and he just holds on.

“Are you okay?” Yuri asks him, and he’s softened right up. He presses a palm into Otabek’s lower back, and it feels warm.

“I was scared,” Otabek admits quietly.

Yuri snorts. “You’re Otabek Altin, the Hero of Kazakhstan. You have nothing in the world to be scared of, least of all me. Got it?”

“Yes, Yura,” Otabek whispers. He feels a little shaky, but calmer. Lighter. And when he falls asleep, it’s with Yuri wrapped tight around him.

  
  


It’s stupid. Otabek’s watching Yuri pack his things, and he feels a little bit like he’s going to die. The competitive season will be starting soon, though, and Yuri needs to go back to Russia, needs to get back to his coaches and his rink mates if he’s going to stand a chance of beating Yuuri. Otabek knows this. He also knows that it’ll be easier to focus on his training if Yuri isn’t around to distract him, but. As he watches Yuri toss t-shirts into his duffle bag, Otabek feels like he’s watching Yuri steal little pieces of him away to take back to Saint Petersburg with him. 

“Wake me up when you get up so I can make sure a taxi gets here on time.”

“Sure.” It’s already been nearly an hour since Yuri started packing, and he keeps getting distracted by his phone. He seems unconcerned by the situation and very at ease, but the longer this takes, the more Otabek’s heart struggles to beat without stuttering. And maybe in the past few weeks, Yuri has developed telepathy because suddenly he looks up. His eyes look very green in Otabek’s bedroom, but when they stand outside on the patio, they look blue against the sky. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s okay.” Yuri drops his phone on the bed and abandons his pile of shirts to crawl into Otabek’s lap and slide his arms around Otabek’s neck. “It’s not like I’m going to the other side of the world. It’s just a five-hour flight and a three hour time difference.”

“Five?” Otabek asks. “It took me nearly fifteen when I went out for your birthday.”

“HA, I flew it in five with Air Astana to get here, no layovers.” He kisses Otabek. “You never get good flights because you try to book them yourself. Mine are always good because Lilia books them for me.” He kisses Otabek again. “It’s not that far.”

And Yuri’s right, because the distance isn’t that far. It’s not as far as Russia to Japan or America to China, but. It’s not the distance that’s the issue. The problem is that once Yuri leaves Almaty, they’ll both be very busy. Their training schedules are grueling, and Yuri’s looking to start taking university level classes online, and Otabek has responsibilities with his family that he can put off during the offseason because it’s kind of like a vacation, but that he has to pick up again once things go back to normal. And a three-hour difference when there’s already next to no time in a day feels like they’ll never talk again, and unless they compete against each other feels like they’ll never see each other again.

Yuri kisses him. “Have I ever abandoned you?”

“No.”

“Then don’t think I’ll start now. There’s always time for texts. Now help me pack.”

 

 

They FaceTime at least twice a week in the hours between Yuri gets home from practice, and Otabek has to go to sleep. It's not that different from before they started dating, except now if they miss a video call Otabek is devastated. It's important to him that Yuri doesn't know that, though, and so he does his best to stay somewhat casual and not to act as clingy as he feels.

He doesn't want Yuri to feel smothered.

The past few weeks, they've mostly only talked about skating. Yuri won't admit it, but Otabek knows that he feels a little off balance due to the changes around his home rink. Yakov is the same as ever, but Victor is taking on more students other than Yuuri, so there are some new faces around, and Georgi had not only retired during the offseason but disappeared completely. It's unsettling to him, when his training sessions were always him, Yakov, Victor, Mila, and Georgi, ever since he was very young.

Otabek, though, is feeling both a surge of confidence that is unusual for him and the weight of the pressure that comes with his expectations for himself. Georgi and Victor are both retired, Christophe Giacometti has mentioned retiring a handful of times, and everyone is just waiting for him to confirm his plans for the rest of the season, and Yuuri has stated that this will be his last competitive season. If Otabek wants gold at the GPF or Worlds, this is the year to do it. He'll have to wrestle the top spot on the podium away from Yuri, and he'll still have to keep his eyes on Yuuri, Leroy, and Chulanont, but he's sure that if he pushes enough, he'll be able to pull through. He'll be twenty-three years old in a couple of weeks, and though over the past few years many skaters have been pushing their professional careers to the very limits, Otabek is thinking to retire sooner might be better for him than later. He wants two more good seasons and at least one gold to give to his mother, and then he intends to DJ in clubs and live a life less scheduled. 

Yuri's working out a step sequence in his bedroom. The wall behind him is a pale lilac color, and the rug tossed over the hardwood flooring is a zebra print. The image is a little grainy, but Otabek watches raptly despite the pixelation. "What music are you going to use?"

The line of Yuri's leg is crisp and neat. "It's a surprise. Yakov and Lilia nearly got into a brawl over it."

"Really?"

"No," Yuri snorts as he gives up and moves to where the laptop is, collapsing into the chair of his desk and bringing his face extremely close to the camera. "Lilia would kick his ass."

Otabek laughs. He wants to reach through the screen to brush Yuri's hair out of his eyes, or palm his cheek, or kiss his forehead. Instead, he leans his chin on his palm and stifles a sigh. 

Yuri grins at him across the screen. "What do you want for your birthday? You already bought those headphones I wanted to get for you."

_ All I want is to see you, _ but Otabek knows that he can't say that. He isn't going to be able to see Yuri until they compete against each other at Skate Canada in January, and even though it's only three months away, it feels like a lifetime. He ignores Yuri's question entirely and asks, "Do you think you'll be able to stay an extra day in Vancouver?"

"I'll fight Yakov for it," Yuri says seriously, his voice stoic but his eyes crinkled in amusement. "If you are then so will I."

Otabek tries not to check the time obsessively, but it's nearing one in the morning, and he's meeting his coach at six. "Yura," he murmurs, and this time it's Yuri that sighs.

"I miss being in your bed," Yuri says. His tone is casual, but his gaze is intense, and Otabek can feel his skin burning over his cheeks and down the back of his neck. "Get some sleep. Don't bitch at me about being tired tomorrow."

"Don't stay up too late yourself," Otabek chokes before exiting the video chat. They're not naturally sentimental or affectionate people, or at least that's how they pretend that they aren't, but. It's easier for Yuri to slip those little things into conversation than it is for Otabek. He thinks it's because Yuri grew up around Victor, but honestly who could say?

Otabek ends up crawling into bed feeling oddly embarrassed, lonely, and terribly in love.

  
  


When it's over, Yuri has another gold slung around his neck, and Otabek pried the silver out of Chulanont's grasp by less than a point. Leroy suffered a groin injury and is probably out for the rest of the season, but both Otabek and Yuri found themselves caught off guard by how strong Ji and de la Iglesia have been as of late, so no one can relax. Otabek's silver was hard won, and he's still got another competition to go before he even knows if he makes it to the Grand Prix. He's qualified every year for the past four years, but everyone still around is gaining ground, and even Yuri is starting to sweat a little.

"So," Yuri says as he throws his bag down on the bed of Otabek's hotel room, "What are we doing tomorrow, with the one day we stole?"

Otabek thought he could take Yuri out to the suspension bridge, but he doesn't know if the transit will be complicated. The hotel they're staying at is in the downtown core of Vancouver, and apparently, Capilano is a little bit out of the way. He also thought about taking Yuri to the revolving restaurant because he's heard it's very romantic, but when he looked at the menu online, the prices made him shudder. Vancouver in January isn't too cold by his or Yuri's standards, but it's rained the whole time they've been here, so Otabek's already vetoed a walk through Stanley Park. "Was there something you were interested in doing?"

"I want to try that Japadog thing, and I want to ride the SkyTrain."

"That's it?"

Yuri strips off his Team Russia jacket and the white, open-necked top that he wore for his FS. He tosses both articles of clothing onto the floor carelessly before rooting around in his bag. When he doesn't find whatever it is he's looking for, he snags the shirt Otabek had worn to bed the night before and puts it on, and Otabek maybe dies a little bit.

"Well, what else is there? The weather's shit."

"Maybe it'll be better tomorrow."

Yuri doesn't say anything else, just strips down out of his pants and crawls up onto the bed. It's not that late yet, and Otabek had figured maybe they could go to dinner, but it looks like Yuri has other plans. "Get your ass over here, Altin."

Otabek goes.

  
  


"Why the fuck is it called the SkyTrain," Yuri fumes, his arms crossed over his chest as he slumps against the partition that separates the entrance of the train from the first seats beside the doors, "when half of it is underground‽"  

Otabek shrugs. A person is standing near Yuri that's been eying up Otabek's track jacket, and a woman sitting diagonally behind Yuri keeps checking out his ass. Otabek slips an arm around Yuri's waist and pulls him closer, and the woman looks up. She makes eye contact with Otabek only long enough to smile at him, and then she turns her gaze out the window. Otabek feels a little better.

Vancouver might be better in the summer. Maybe they could come back. For now, they've been riding the various train lines around the city and surrounding areas, and Yuri's been snapping pictures for Instagram. They had Japadog for lunch earlier, and Yuri had groaned obscenely over the fries. It's nearing dinnertime now, and neither has come to any consensus on what they might like to have. 

"We could get room service," Otabek suggests as the train stops somewhere called Patterson.

"We're getting off at the next stop," Yuri insists instead. He's been leading the way all day, and Otabek has just been trailing behind him contentedly. Yuri's better with maps anyway and had figured out the SkyTrain routes after looking at the map at the station by their hotel for ten minutes. "I want to eat shitty mall food and buy stuff."

They get lost in a shopping center called Metrotown. It's very busy for a Monday evening and trying to find the food court is a challenge. They wander around in circles after eating for what feels like hours, and they don't make it through half the stores before the announcements on the intercom start announcing that the mall will be closing soon. Yuri buys leggings in green cheetah print and dark purple galaxy print, and a denim jacket that has leather over the shoulders and a white tiger head embroidered on the back. They get so lost trying to find the exit that takes them back to the train that Otabek almost asks a security guard to guide them out, but Yuri manages to get them out on his own eventually. 

The train is virtually empty as they make their way back downtown. Yuri sits with his back pressed against the window and one of his legs tossed over Otabek's lap, and Otabek squeezes his calf. Neither speaks much on the ride, but at one point they make eye contact, and Yuri leans over and kisses him long and lingering. His fingers hook into the collar of Otabek's t-shirt, and even when their lips break apart, he keeps Otabek there. "You get under my fucking skin," Yuri whispers, and it's somehow aggressively tender.

Otabek wonders if Yuri will ever stop leaving him gasping for breath, or if his chest will ever stop feeling like it's packed with TNT. If Yuri looks at him just right, he'll explode. He just knows it. Being like this in public, draped all over each other on a train and kissing and whispering nothings as sweet as Yuri knows how to make them should be embarrassing. They're not Victor and Yuuri, after all, but. At this point, Otabek doesn't care who sees them, if anyone does. He's just happy that Yuri's in his hands, that Yuri's holding onto him.

The train's fluorescent light washes Yuri out; his skin is so pale it's almost ethereal, or alien, and his eyes look nearly as gray as the sky outside. Even so, he's just as captivating as ever. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

Yuri levels him with a hard stare. "Duh. I moved my things into your room last night, didn't I? Of course I wasn't going to leave you alone. God." He kisses away any sting his words might have inflicted. "I want you with me every night, idiot."

  
  


Yuri's mouth has to be the eighth wonder of the world, Otabek swears. Between the things that he says with it, and the way he uses it to kiss Otabek crazy, he doesn't know why more people haven't clued into the fact that Yuri's mouth is a gift. He resolutely doesn't think about Yuri's Angels or the one fan that stole Yuri's first kiss before Otabek ever had a chance. That anyone got close enough to Yuri to grab him like that, force him, still makes Otabek angry, and sick with worry. But Yuri doesn't give him the time to dwell on these things because he's too busy kissing Otabek.

They're laid out on the bed; Yuri is more than half on top of him, and the TV is playing softly in the background. There's a lamp turned on on the bedside table by Otabek's head but it's dim, and the sky is an inky black outside over the lights of the city. All of Yuri's skin that Otabek has access to is hot as if he's blushing in his whole body. 

There's a lot of kissing. So much contact. Yuri sits up suddenly and peels his shirt off before practically diving back down to Otabek's mouth. "Put your hands on me," he demands quietly against Otabek's lips. So Otabek does. One of his hands splays out in the dip of Yuri's lower back, and the other one tangles in Yuri's hair. Yuri's got a hand cupped around Otabek's jaw, and the other braced on the bed over Otabek's shoulder. And then Yuri's straddling him, and Otabek wants to melt away because he can feel...

They're both hard. They're both hard, and Yuri's kisses are becoming nearly frantic, and Otabek's heart is pounding in his chest so fast, but. The idea of doing anything more than this makes his stomach flip in ways that are similar to nausea. Yuri grinds down against him, and Otabek gasps because it's too much, too fast, feels too... too...  _ too... _

"Yuri," he manages to choke out. "Yura." He's drowning; he can't breathe, and his skin feels both too hot and too cold. "Yura."

"Fuck," Yuri spits as he practically throws himself off Otabek and to the other side of the bed. "Are you okay? I'm sorry. I forgot. Fuck. I can go, I can--"

Otabek's brain is still short-circuiting. His hand shoots out and grabs Yuri around the forearm maybe too hard. "Stay," he says, and he hears his voice shake. "Please. I'm sorry. Don't go."

They stare at each other for a moment that feels like a lifetime, and then slowly Yuri eases back into the bed. "Don't apologize," he whispers, and he won't even look Otabek in the eye. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry Babe."

_ Babe. _ Yuri's never called him that before. Otabek takes a deep breath. "Please come here?"

Yuri curls up with his head on Otabek's chest as if he couldn't imagine being anywhere else. "You're sure this is okay?"

"Yeah," Otabek whispers. "I'm not mad, and I'm not scared. You never scared me, Yura. I was just overwhelmed. It's okay."

They're both still shaken, but. "Can I kiss you?" Yuri whispers against Otabek's neck. "Just a little? Just once?"

Otabek doesn't answer with words, just tilts both their bodies until their lips can slot together comfortably. He knows that people think that he's a rugged bad boy type and that Yuri uses aggression to compensate for how delicate they believe he is, but Otabek's pretty sure that everyone's got it backward. The kiss Yuri gives him is so gentle, so soft, that it's as if Yuri is trying to wrap him up and keep him safe from everything in the whole world. And he only kisses Otabek once, just like he said he would, but once isn't enough for Otabek. Not when he feels like he's going to fly apart, and the only thing keeping him together is Yuri. If either of them is delicate, Otabek knows that it's him. 

He knows, deep down, that Yuri knows it too. Yuri leans up on one arm to look Otabek in the eyes, and he brushes a small curl of hair off of Otabek's forehead. "You still trust me?" he whispers, and all Otabek can think is  _ of course. _

  
  


Yuri qualifies for the Grand Prix because of course he does, and so does Otabek. And so does Chulanont, Yuuri, Ji, and Lee. It's a good, competitive group, but Otabek can't shake the feeling that this is his season. He's going to win, even if he has to pull a gold medal out of his ass and crawl across the ice to get to the podium. "Train hard," he tells Yuri over their video chat, adjusting the tilt of his laptop screen as he tries to get comfortable in his bed. "You're going to have to fight me for the win."

Yuri laughs. He's twisting his hair into a braid, and Otabek knows that if Yuri sleeps with it like that it'll be curly tomorrow. Watching Yuri's fingers is distracting, and he wishes he was there to do the braid himself. Otabek sighs.

"What're you looking at me like that for, Altin?" Yuri asks, sly and preening. He knows how much Otabek loves looking at him, loose and rumpled and ready for bed.

"I just miss you." Over the months they've been dating, Otabek's learned to say sweet nothings just as well as Yuri. Yuri's cheeks stain pink, and he looks away from the camera, just a little shy.

  
  


By the time the GPF finally rolls around, Yuri is twenty, Otabek is twenty-four, and they haven't seen each other except over computer screens in over three months. Everyone skates superbly, everyone manages to pull out some tricks that leave the audience surprised and the scores almost unprecedentedly high, and at the end of it, only two people aren't utterly shocked.

The weight of gold around Otabek's neck isn't as heavy as Yuri's arms when they wrap tight around him. "I'll get it back next year," Yuri whispers into his ear. Cameras are going off all around them, and Otabek is high on adrenaline and joy as Yuri sweeps him into a kiss in front of everyone. There's still Worlds to go, but nothing else matters right now except this. Later, when he sees the pictures splashed over newspapers and sports mags and all over the internet, he'll wish they'd had a more private moment, and Yuri will lament the fact that people are comparing it to Victor and Yuuri's infamous on ice on air kiss. But that will be later. Now, it's perfect. Now it's everything Otabek could have imagined. 

They only go to the banquet that night because if they don't Yakov will have a conniption and Otabek's coach will look staunchly disappointed. They only stay about an hour and a half because they both hate suits and small talk. It's Otabek that decides they should leave, and he's brazen when he twines his fingers with Yuri's and drags him from the banquet hall. 

He herds Yuri into the elevator and jams the button for his floor, and they make out on the ride up like the teenagers they aren't anymore, like the teenagers they never really got to be. Yuri's got Otabek by the lapels of his jacket, and Otabek keeps Yuri crowded up against the mirrored back wall. It feels like days of being attached at the lips before the doors ding open, and then Yuri is off like a shot, running down the hall and pulling Otabek behind him. He whoops with laughter, and when he gets to Otabek's room, his hands are all over Otabek, supposedly looking for the room key but mostly just looking for excuses to touch.

"You look smug," Yuri murmurs, and his breath is hot against Otabek's throat. "It's a good look on you."

They'll be stuck in the hall all night if things keep going like this, so Otabek bats Yuri's hands away and fishes the key out of the inner pocket of his jacket. He has to try the door four times before he gets it open because Yuri won't stop kissing him, but he can't say that he minds. Once inside, Yuri moves them to the bed immediately and strips them both of jackets and shirts. "Is this okay?"

Otabek feels like he's on top of the world. Having Yuri so close to him is one of his favorite things. "Yeah. Come here. Kiss me."

"Stop me as soon as you get overwhelmed or don't want to do this anymore, okay? I thought you were gonna cry last time and it made me want to throw myself out the fucking window."

"Okay," Otabek says before pulling Yuri down into a hard kiss.

"I mean it," Yuri manages to mutter around Otabek's tongue in his mouth. "Promise me."

Otabek can't help but laugh. He's got a GPF gold medal and a boyfriend that would rather die than hurt him in any way, and he's never been happier in his whole life. "I promise."

"God. Look at you. Fuck you, Altin, look at what you do to me," Yuri babbles as he leaves biting kisses all down Otabek's neck and over his collarbone. "I'm supposed to be cool, but you turn me into such a fucking mess."

His hair is tangled, and his skin flushed a beautiful pink, and his eyes are a little wild. He does look like a mess. But Otabek adores him like this just as much as he adores him any other time, and he hopes that Yuri can tell that by the way Otabek cups his face and tilts it up so he can kiss his mouth. He hopes Yuri hears  _ I love you thank you never leave me. _

It doesn't take much to get Yuri going. He's already hard in his pants and trying his best not to grind against Otabek, but Otabek knows. He doesn't want to have sex. His body is reacting to Yuri's arousal and the feel of Yuri's skin, but the stirring in his groin and stomach feel so removed from this moment, and from Otabek as a person, and he knows that he doesn't want to have sex. He doesn't know if he'll ever want it the way Yuri seems to want it, but. He wants to make Yuri feel good. He wants to make Yuri's body feel the way Yuri makes Otabek's heart feel. 

Otabek's never had one of those classic, literary types of orgasms before. He's experienced orgasms because sometimes after training his body gets worked up and restless and the only thing that seems to chill him out is jerking off and coming, but as much as it relieves the tension, it's never particularly  _ good _ . But he knows from his friends that there are orgasms that leave people shaking, breathless, lightheaded, giddy. He's heard Serik say things  _ like it was the best orgasm of my life _ and _ I've never come that hard before _ , and  _ I thought I was going to die, it felt so good. _ And maybe Otabek can't relate that to a body-type of feeling, but.

That's how his heart feels whenever Yuri smiles at him, so. He wants Yuri to feel that way, too. He wants Yuri to feel it in his body as well as in his heart. He needs to be the one who makes Yuri feel that way.

He doesn't want to have sex. But he's 100% completely unopposed to giving Yuri an orgasm.

When he slips his hands down to Yuri's hips and slides his fingers under Yuri's waistband, Yuri stops him. "I thought you weren't interested in sex," he pants, and his eyes are wide with lust and concern.

"I'm not," Otabek confirms, his lips dragging against the skin of Yuri's shoulder. "But I'm deeply interested in you."

"You don't have to--"

"I know. I'd like to if you want."

"If I want?" Yuri asks, and he sounds ruined. "I always want your hands on me, asshole. If I want. Heh." He snorts, and his hips twitch in Otabek's hands, and his mouth is all over Otabek. "I want everything you want to give me."

Otabek thinks he doesn't have a lot to offer, and that Yuri is maybe expecting a little more when he says things like  _ everything, _ but even if it's not much Otabek will still give whatever it is that he has. He's going to give his gold medal to his mother, but everything else belongs to Yuri. He flicks open the button of Yuri's suit pants and opens the zipper, and Yuri sighs out a quiet  _ shit _ when Otabek cups the bulge of his arousal.

Yuri's hands scrabble around Otabek's shoulders before sliding down his torso and reaching for the zipper on his pants, but Otabek shakes his head. "Just you," he whispers, his face pressed into Yuri's hair. 

Yuri is always focused on making sure that things in his life are fair. One piroshki for him, one piroshki for Yuuri. If Victor's allowed to do quads, so must Yuri be. If Yakov lets Yuri spend the offseason in Almaty, Mila should be allowed to see her friends in Italy. It's asking a lot of him, Otabek knows, to accept something without giving in return. But Otabek asks, and Yuri pauses, and then Yuri's hands move back up and away. He grinds slightly into Otabek's palm, and he curls his fingers into Otabek's hair and around the back of Otabek's neck. He kisses Otabek hard and lingering because he can't do anything else. 

It's probably a little awkward. Yuri is Otabek's first everything. He's never touched anyone like this before, but it's not like Yuri has more experience than him either. The angle is a little strained, trying to work under layers of clothing, Otabek's hand squished between their bodies. Yuri squirms. "Wait," he mutters, impatient and maybe a touch anxious. "Wait."

He gets up just enough to pull his pants and his briefs off, then he cups Otabek's face in both his hands and devours his mouth. When he's finished with that, he turns around and settles between Otabek's legs, his back pressed against Otabek's chest and his head pillowed on Otabek's shoulders. "Yuri..."

Yuri grabs Otabek's hands and squeezes them briefly before pressing them into his thighs. "You still wanna do this?"

"Yes, if you're still up to it."

Yuri takes a moment to just look at his dick, then snorts. "I'm still up to it. Just. Um. Touch me the way you touch yourself?"

Heat flashes through Otabek's body. His hand skitters down over Yuri's thigh to grip the base of his erection and Yuri squirms again before moaning when Otabek squeezes. His other hand moves up and over Yuri's chest to settle heavy over Yuri's clavicle. He buries his nose in Yuri's hair and breathes. Yuri's dripping with pre-come, and it makes the pull of Otabek's hand slick. 

"Fuck," Yuri gasps, and his whole body is tense. His fingernails are biting into Otabek's legs through his pants, and he twists his neck, searching for Otabek's lips. "Kiss me, fuck, Beka please, God."

He grabs Yuri's chin and kisses him roughly, desperately. His hand speeds up on Yuri's cock, and Yuri's voice sounds like it's being dragged out of his body, broken and hoarse. Otabek tries to swallow his sounds, wants to eat them alive so that no one hears them but him. 

"Feels okay?" Otabek whispers.

"Fuck," Yuri grits out. "Don't tease me, asshole."

"I'm not teasing," Otabek insists, kissing Yuri everywhere his lips can reach. "I'm just checking."

"Feels good," Yuri confirms, his hips rolling up as if to say  _ see? _ "I'm close."

Otabek flicks his wrist and thumbs the head of Yuri's cock, and Yuri babbles incoherently. "Are you always loud like this?" Otabek asks quietly, in awe.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, fuck you, oh my God just like that, Beka fuck." Yuri sounds like he's falling apart. Otabek is good at following directions, and when Yuri says things like  _ just like that _ and  _ don't stop, _ Otabek just continues like Yuri tells him.

When Yuri comes, it's like a tsunami. His body trembles and his breath whooshes out of his body in a massive gust, and both of them are left silent and devastated when it's over. Yuri is limp against Otabek's body, and Otabek feels like he's just lived through an Experience. After an eternity of stillness, Yuri's voice cracks the silence. "You good?"

Otabek wants to laugh, but all he can manage is wrapping his arms around Yuri and holding him as close as he can. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

"You're sure you don't want me to--"

"I'm sure. But thank you." 

  
  


Serik is so engrossed in winning the race that he's not paying attention to the conversation going on around him. Otabek is looking at the screen and maneuvering through the race course, but he's mostly talking to Sezim.

"I just want you to be happy, Beka, and you've been distracted and sad for months."

"I just feel guilty," Otabek mutters, "because I miss him all the time. I feel lonely, even when I'm with people, and that's shitty because it makes me think that I think my friends and family aren't enough. You're important to me too, just as much as Yuri, but..."

Sezim sighs. "Of course you feel like that, though. If there were more balance then you wouldn't, probably, but if you only see him for a couple of days every six months, give or take, you're going to feel a void in between."

"I would die if Sezim lived so far away," Serik pipes up suddenly, never looking away from the TV. "Seriously, Beka, if the closest I could get to the light of my life was a video call, I couldn't survive. And that doesn't mean that my relationship with you or with my parents is less valuable to me. You're all vital to my happiness. But to be so in love with someone and to have them so far away? I couldn't."

Sezim looks at Serik for a long moment, her face impassive except for the press of her lips. Then she says, "Being in love can be difficult. But I don't believe that it should hurt you more than it soothes. And you're always hurting. It's no one's fault, but the way things are, maybe you should reevaluate your situation."

"Maybe," Otabek concedes. 

  
  


O: can I ask you something?

V: Of course! What about?

O: this stays between us, ok?

V: ...

V: Otabek, what's going on?

  
  


When Otabek calls Yuri, it's just a regular voice call with no camera. His stomach twists with nausea, and he doesn't want to see Yuri's face. "What's up Babe?" Yuri asks, and already he's confused and concerned.

"I don't think you should come out during the offseason this year."

There's a beat of utter silence, and then a staticky rustling noise, and Yuri's voice, flat. "What?"

"I'm..." Otabek heaves air into his lungs. His palms are sweaty. "I think that--"

"If you're going to break up with me then just do it," Yuri spits. 

"I wasn't planning on breaking up with you. You shouldn't come to Almaty during the offseason because I won't be here."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Where the hell do you expect to be, Altin?"

This is it. If Yuri rejects this proposition, Otabek might keel over right here. "Saint Petersburg."

There's a longer, more drawn out silence before Yuri asks again, "What?"

"I can't do this anymore," Otabek says. "I can't live like this; I can't feel this way about you and be so far away, trying to schedule my whole life around _when will I have time to call Yuri if I do this thing._ I don't like it, I don't want to do it anymore, and I'm not going to."

"Beka--"

"I'm going to move to Saint Petersburg. At the end of July."

"Otabek, where is this coming from?"

"We've been together for how long now?" Otabek asks quietly. "Two years in August, yes? And I want to continue to be with you for a long time yet. But how much longer can we go with all this distance between us?"

"Five hours--"

"Five hours too far," Otabek insists. "I won't come if you don't want me to, but I can't... Yura. I miss you all the time. Whenever I see you and then have to leave, I feel like I'm cutting off a piece of my body and leaving it behind. I'm not happy like this. I want to be where you are."

"You can't!" Yuri explodes, furious. "What about your career? Is your coach coming with you? You can't live with me; I still live with Lilia, I'm not ready to--"

"Listen! Stop! Yura stop," Otabek interrupts desperately. "I can change coaches. I--"

"Yakov only trains Russians, who the fuck else--"

"Listen to me! I've already spoken to Victor. He says he's got time for me now that Yuuri's retired. Yura. Please just hear me out. Victor will train me, and I'll rent an apartment somewhere. You don't have to do anything. You don't have to move in with me if you don't want to, not now or not ever. I just. I just need to do this. I need to be closer to you if we're going to keep doing this. Please, Yura."

Yuri hangs up on him. Yuri hangs up on him, and Otabek almost throws his phone across the room, but then Yuri calls him back. With video. Otabek answers.

"You're a fucking idiot," Yuri hisses. "Why did you scare me like that, fuck. I love you, you jackass! How long have you been thinking like this without telling me? You already talked to Victor! What's wrong with you?"

There's so much in that statement that Otabek could address, but he's caught up on one thing. "You love me."

Yuri splutters. "Is that. Is that a question? Are you serious? It's been two fucking years, of course I love you!"

"You've never said it, you never--"

"Neither have you!" Yuri roars, and his face is red, and his eyes are wet. "Were you waiting for me to say it? I just thought..."

"Just thought what?"

Yuri looks devastated. "I thought it was obvious. Like, of course I love you. I've always known you love me, even before. I never needed to hear it because I already  _ knew _ . I just figured you were the same. You went this whole time not knowing I love you? Beka."

"I'm moving to Saint Petersburg."

Yuri sniffles then nods, then laughs. It's wet, and it hits Otabek right in the chest, and all he wants to do is wrap Yuri in his arms and be wrapped up in return. "Why didn't you say anything to me?"

"I wanted to make sure it was feasible first. I already have a place lined up and everything."

"I love you," Yuri whispers. "I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you too," Otabek says, and his voice sounds rough.

Yuri wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. "Come here."

"Yes," Otabek responds. It's everything he has. "Yes."

  
  


The plane lands, and Otabek is shuffled throughout the airport, and when he finally makes it past customs and through Arrivals, Yuri is the first person he sees. The first words out of Yuri's mouth are, "I love you." The next are, "Where's the rest of your shit?" And the words after that are, "Victor and Katsudon are here too because they wouldn't back the fuck off when I said I was coming to pick you up."

Otabek laughs, and he crushes Yuri in a hug. All he can come up with to say is, "I love you too." 

 


End file.
